The Righting of Wrongs
by davros72
Summary: A visit from a legendary Creature sends the SAJV gang off on an adventure to the Arctic...


TITLE: The Righting of Wrongs  
AUTHOR: Kevin Schultz  
AUTHOR'S EMAIL: davros72@prodigy.net  
FEEDBACK: Yes, please  
PERMISSION TO ARCHIVE: I'm fine with it, just let me know where it'll be,  
that's all I ask.  
CATEGORY: Adventure, General  
RATING/WARNINGS: PG (for some action-violence)  
MAIN CHARACTERS: Rebecca, Jules, Phileas, Passepartout  
DISCLAIMER: SAJV and characters copyright Talisman/Promark/etc., no  
infringement is intended.  
  
  
**********  
  
Jules Verne pushed the bottle away from him. He nudged it in the direction  
of his friend Pierre, who sat across from him at the little table in the  
small Parisian cafe. Pierre, with his girlfriend (at least, she was this  
evening) Marie on his lap, looked at the bottle.  
  
"No more for you, Jules?" Pierre said, incredulous.  
  
"I don't think so, Pierre," Jules said, in a somewhat deflated tone of  
voice.  
  
"What is the matter, my friend?"  
  
Jules thought for a moment, then shook his head. "I don't know. I'm  
just... not in the mood."  
  
Pierre winced as Marie slapped his shoulder. "Well, I know that Pierre here  
is always in the mood!"  
  
Jules smiled half-heartedly, and stood up. "Pierre, Marie, I will call it a  
night. You two have fun tonight."  
  
Pierre looked at Jules closely. "Will you be all right, my friend?" he  
asked, seriously.  
  
Jules nodded, replying, "Yes, Pierre. I just need to think, and walk."  
  
Pierre chuckled. "Well, as long as you stay away from any dark alleys.  
We've warned you about that so many times, yet you still put yourself in  
such danger..."  
  
Jules laughed. "Don't worry. I'll be fine." He turned to leave, dropped a  
few coins on the bar, saying, "Thank you for your hospitality, sir," and  
walked out the door into the warm Parisian night.  
  
Jules Verne looked up at the night-time sky. He saw the stars, and thought  
about their significance, and his own insignificance. Then he thought about  
how tired he was, and he set off down the road for home.  
  
After walking a few blocks, he paused. He could have sworn he saw something  
move, just over there, in that alley between two tall buildings. It felt  
like someone was watching him. Tensing himself, he slowly approached the  
dark alleyway.  
  
"Who's there?" he called out. "I know you're there!"  
  
Jules kicked himself as Pierre's words to him about alleys came back to him,  
but by this point he had to go forward, and find out who was there. His  
indomitable curiousity was rearing its head once more.  
  
Jules carefully stepped into the shadows between the two tall buildings. He  
listened, and heard nothing as he stood there. "Hello?" he called out once  
more. He waited for a response. None was forthcoming. "Oh, well," he  
said, rather relieved.  
  
"Wait," a voice hissed from out of the darkness. Jules froze. He turned  
towards where he perceived the voice to be coming from. He could still see  
nothing in the darkness.  
  
"Who is it?" Jules said.  
  
A tall, powerful figure lurched at him from the clutches of the darkness.  
"I will not tell you my name, as I have none to give," the figure intoned in  
a deep, throaty voice as it approached Jules. The figure clamped its large  
right hand around Jules' arm. "I need your help." Its face remained hidden  
in the shadows.  
  
"Look, sir," Jules said, indignantly, "I am sorry that society has left you  
behind, but whatever your situation is I'm sure that I cannot--"  
  
"I am not one of the people without money nor a home that are common around  
this place," the figure replied, a tinge of anger in its voice.  
  
"Who are you, then? And what do you want with me?"  
  
The figure shifted slightly, as if embarrased. The movement caused the  
figure's face to emerge from the shadows and become illuminated by the  
nearby streetlamp. The wrinkled, scarred skin was tinged yellow, the hair  
was deep black. The figure's sad, yellow eyes contrasted with the  
blackened lips. Jules recoiled slightly but recovered himself quickly.  
  
The tall figure spoke quietly, almost sighing the words. "I am a monster.  
And I need you to kill me."  
  
"Kill you?" Jules said. He attempted to back away, but the figure's strong  
grip on his arm prevented him from withdrawing.  
  
"I have tried to do it myself for what feels like a hundred years. Yet  
every attempt I make, every idea I have, nothing seems to be what is  
required. I have limited medical and scientific knowledge. That is why I  
have sought you out. You are Jules Verne, are you not?"  
  
"Yes, I am, but--"  
  
"I understand you have various thoughts and ideas that are years beyond  
mankind's current understanding of the sciences."  
  
Jules' face reddened somewhat at this bold statement. "Well, I'm not too  
sure about that. I have some notions, some visions and such, but I would  
hesitate to say that I'm some sort of 'scientist'."  
  
The figure cast his eyes down towards the ground, and spoke as if he'd not  
heard what Jules had just said. "I once knew a man who was well-versed in  
such things as you are. He made me the man I am today. But he is gone, has  
been gone for a long time now."  
  
Jules looked at the figure. "Which is why you came looking for me."  
  
The figure looked back up at Jules. "Yes."  
  
"Why do you want to die?" Jules asked quietly.  
  
The figure trembled, as if becoming angry. "Because I should never have  
existed!" it growled. "I am an abomination, a dark blot on the history of  
the science of man. Destroy me, before I am found and others like me are  
created."  
  
"Is someone after you?"  
  
The figure barked a sudden harsh guttural laugh. "Ha! Yes, those fools  
known as the League of Darkness. They seek to discover my secrets. They  
wish to have them for their own evil purposes, I know not what, nor do I  
care."  
  
Jules' face took on a grim, determined look. "Then we have something in  
common. I would not wish to help the League of Darkness in any way at all.  
But I am still uncomfortable with the thought of helping you die."  
  
"Please, sir, it is the only way. The only way to not only prevent the  
League from grasping my secrets, but also the only way to bring me peace at  
long last. I beg that you trust me in this, sir."  
  
Jules looked at the figure. He saw the aching, sad look in the creature's  
eyes, the fatigue in its posture, the pleading in its expression. But to  
kill someone? Even one who looked as frightful as this figure did, even one  
who wished for death. Jules was unsure. He was about to say so, when the  
figure jerked its head up, started darting glances about in all directions.  
  
"There is someone nearby," the figure whispered. "One of the hunters, they  
are after me. Is there somewhere we can go? Quickly!"  
  
"Y-yes, um," Jules stammered nervously, "my quarters, we'll--"  
  
The figure squeezed Jules' arm. "No, we cannot. I have been there. They  
have already placed their spies in position to watch for you."  
  
Jules winced at the pressure being applied to his arm. "In that case, we'll  
have to hurry, but we should be able to catch my friends before they return  
to England."  
  
"We shall go there, then. It is on the way to my final destination. Lead  
on, but be careful!"  
  
Jules checked the street, and, seeing it was clear, motioned for the figure  
to follow. As they hurried away, Jules wondered. Final destination? Did  
the figure mean metaphysically, or geographically? Or perhaps both?  
  
*****  
  
Rebecca Fogg drummed her fingers on the surface of the table. She looked  
over at Passepartout, who was fussing over the controls of his beloved  
airship, the Aurora. At times, it seemed like her cousin's valet took an  
inordinate amount of time to make preparations just right. All Rebecca  
wanted right now was to get back to England, her mission on the continent  
having finally been accomplished.  
  
"We are ready to be leaving, Master," Passepartout reported, turning to face  
his master, Phileas Fogg, who stood at the main window of the cabin.  
  
"Excellent, Passepartout. Stand by to--" Phileas began.  
  
Suddenly the main door crashed open, and Jules Verne rushed in, followed  
what could only be described as a creature. It was tall, clearly over seven  
feet in height, massively built, and covered in a large black overcoat. The  
skin was old, dry, wrinkled and yellowed. The creature's thick black hair  
contrasted with the paleness of its flesh.  
  
"We have to go, now!" Jules, nearly out of breath, managed to gasp as he  
slammed the door shut.  
  
"That is just what we were attempting to do, Verne," Phileas said, eyeing  
the creature carefully. "Would you mind introducing us to your friend?"  
  
Rebecca noticed the creature flinch at the use of the word "friend". Odd.  
  
"No time to explain, just get us airborne!" Jules wheezed. He threw himself  
into a nearby chair, and attempted to catch his breath. The creature,  
meanwhile, stood silently and patiently just inside the main door.  
  
Phileas nodded at Passepartout, who adjusted the controls appropriately, and  
the airship lifted itself gently but firmly into the air.  
  
"Well, now that we're safely airborne," Phileas continued, "and we seem to  
have another passenger, please do us the favor of telling us why in God's  
name you are in such a state?"  
  
Jules glared at Phileas. "There's no need to patronize me, Fogg," he said,  
breathing heavily.  
  
Rebecca stood up and stepped between the two men. "Gentlemen, let's not  
fight," she said smoothly. "Jules, please, what is going on?"  
  
Jules looked at Rebecca, his mood softening quickly. "Very well," he said,  
having caught his breath at last. "We had reason to believe the League of  
Darkness were after us."  
  
Phileas rolled his eyes. "Good God, not them *again*?"  
  
Rebecca darted her eyes at Phileas. "Hush!" she hissed. "Do go on, Jules."  
  
Jules continued. "It seems they are after this... person." He turned, and  
indicated the creature. Jules explained how the two met, which garnered him  
another rolling of the eyes from Phileas at the mention of the darkened  
alley. Jules concluded the short tale as they reached the Aurora, then  
shrugged his shoulders. "That's as much as I know," he finished.  
  
Rebecca nodded, thoughtfully. "Hmm," she mused. She shifted slightly to  
face the creature. The sad eyes looked back at her. "And would you be so  
kind as to tell us more about yourself, sir?" she asked the creature.  
  
The creature moved forward slightly, to stand in the center of the cabin.  
All eyes were now focused on him. The creature looked at each one of them  
in turn, then spoke.  
  
"Do you know the story of the man named Victor Frankenstein?" he asked.  
  
"Frankenstein?" Phileas asked, taken aback. "But surely, Frankenstein was a  
myth, a ghost story created by Mary Shelley years ago."  
  
The Creature turned to face Phileas. "And who do you suppose it was who  
gave her the idea for the story?"  
  
Phileas raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Do you mean to tell us that you  
did? You told Mary Shelley your tale?"  
  
"Indeed, I did so relate my experiences to her." The Creature looked back  
at Jules. "People who author tales of adventure often are dismissed as  
harmless, insane thinkers. But I believe we know better than that."  
  
Jules smiled grimly as he nodded in agreement.  
  
The Creature continued. "I had hoped that the Shelley woman would help me  
in my plight. Yet she refused. She agreed, however, to relate my story to  
the world, but she required that she house it as a work of fiction. It was  
the only way that it would ever see the light of day, she said. The hope  
was that, some time, some where, I would chance upon a sympathetic person  
who, armed with the foreknowledge of my sad experiences, would also have the  
scientific and medical wherewithal to answer my greatest plea."  
  
"And has anyone stepped forward to help you?" Rebecca asked.  
  
"No. I have walked the continent for many years now, so many that I have  
lost count. Yet no one, when I approach them, has ever been willing to  
assist me."  
  
Jules stepped forward. "So now you take it upon yourself to hunt people  
down on your own."  
  
The Creature returned his gaze to Jules. "Sadly, that must be the way.  
With no voluntary assistance at hand, I must now take control of my destiny.  
I am sorry if I startled you."  
  
Jules shrugged. "I'm getting used to being startled."  
  
Phileas strolled over to the nearby table, and sat himself down. "So.  
Having thrust yourself upon us, you now expect us to help you die. Is that  
what I'm hearing?"  
  
"Yes, sir," the Creature said. "I require not only your assistance in my  
death, but I also need the use of your flying craft."  
  
"The Aurora?" Phileas frowned. "What on Earth for?"  
  
The Creature's shoulders seemed to slump ever so slightly. "I must go back  
to the Arctic. I am sure that we will find some answer to solve this  
problem of my death. Do not ask me how I know this. But I know that we  
must go there."  
  
Phileas rolled his eyes. "Jules, what have you gotten us into this time?"  
  
The Creature lunged at Phileas, grabbed him by the scruff of his  
meticulously arranged collar, and lifted him out of his seat and up into the  
air. Eye to eye, the Creature hissed at Phileas. "Do not blame Jules  
Verne, Mister Fogg. I am the one you need to argue with. And this is NOT  
up for argue. We are going to the Arctic, and you will help me die. Is  
that understood?"  
  
Passepartout, Jules and Rebecca all tensed, ready to move on the Creature at  
the slightest provocation.  
  
Phileas looked back at the weathered face of the Creature, his eyes just as  
steely in their resolution as the Creature's. "Put me down, or we are going  
*nowhere*, do you hear me?"  
  
The Creature paused, staring into Phileas' eyes. Then, incredibly, the  
Creature smiled. "I see it in your eyes... a kindred spirit. A similar  
longing." The Creature gently set Phileas back into his seat. Phileas  
shifted himself to smooth down his clothing and appear his proper self once  
more.  
  
The Creature's smile faded. Still looking into Phileas' eyes, he said  
simply, "Please."  
  
Phileas stared back at the Creature, then nodded. "Very well, sir. But  
first we must stop in London, and gather some equipment and provisions.  
Does that meet with your approval?"  
  
The Creature turned away, and looked out at the night through the large main  
windows of the cabin. "It does. Thank you, sir." The Creature walked  
slowly over to the windows, sat himself down on the floor, and gazed out at  
the view.  
  
Phileas and Rebecca exchanged glances. Jules walked over to stand near the  
two Foggs.  
  
"I'm sorry, Fogg, he--" Jules began.  
  
"Never mind, Jules," Phileas said quietly. "It's all right."  
  
Rebecca looked at the Creature, seated at the front of the cabin. "Never in  
my wildest thoughts did I imagine that the story was true."  
  
"I don't think any of us did," Jules agreed. "I have to say, I think we  
need to help him."  
  
Rebecca looked at him, narrowing her eyes. "You approve of killing him?"  
  
Jules shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged. "Well, you have to  
admit, Rebecca, it's a bit more complicated than that. It wouldn't exactly  
be 'killing' him, technically. He's already dead."  
  
Phileas shook his head. "No, he's not. He's alive again. He *was* dead."  
  
Jules nodded. "Right. But having once been dead, and then brought back to  
life against the laws of all creation... I have to think that God would not  
have wanted this."  
  
Rebecca thought for a moment. "And it seems that our friends from the  
League of Darkness are after his secrets, is that right?"  
  
Jules again nodded. "They seem to think he possesses some form of 'elixir  
of life', or at the very least, some sort of medical or chemical  
'rearrangement' within to prolong his existence. Whatever it is, we cannot  
allow him to fall into the hands of the League."  
  
"Agreed," Phileas said. "If only for that reason alone we must comply with  
his wishes. Can you imagine Count Gregory discovering the secret to  
prolonging life?"  
  
Rebecca looked at him. "Well, strictly speaking he already *has*, Phileas."  
  
"Hmmm," Phileas mused. "But I wouldn't call that contraption he's stuck  
with a 'life', would you?"  
  
Rebecca frowned. "No. I suppose not."  
  
Passepartout shuffled quickly over to the little group. "Master, if the  
Creature is wishing to die... is it not being his choice?"  
  
Phileas looked up at Passepartout. "But can we take a man's life?"  
  
"Is already taken from him, Master. I am thinking he is only wanting to  
restore balance to nature. To... to return a gift he is not wanting to  
have."  
  
Phileas stood up quickly, irritated. "Enough!" he hissed. "We could debate  
and debate this for days. I do not care to do so. I say we get him to the  
Arctic, help him find this... 'answer' he seems to think is there. Then  
we'll see what happens. Agreed?"  
  
The others all nodded in agreement. Passepartout bowed, and moved back to  
his position at the controls.  
  
The lights of London crept into view through the window. Unbeknownst to the  
crew of the Aurora, they were not the only flying ship approaching the  
City...  
  
*****  
#####  
  
My heart began to race. In the dawn's early light, I could see the Aurora  
approaching from the distance. My Rebecca was coming home! I shifted  
slightly in my perch on the tree, and watched as the airship settled down on  
the ground. There was someone else on board. I could see this person  
seated at the very front of the ship, in the center of the main windows. He  
was very large, I would estimate he was at least seven feet in height,  
perhaps seven and a half. But it was hard to make an accurate guess, as the  
man was sitting down. He seemed to be staring out at nothing. His eyes  
never shifted. My Rebecca approached him just after the ship landed, and  
said something to the large man. I could not make out what it was she was  
saying. Whatever it was, it failed to elicit a response from the large man,  
who simply continued to stare out the window.  
  
Rebecca shrugged, then joined Phileas and Jules as they got ready to leave  
the airship. Passepartout remained behind, perhaps to keep an eye on the  
large man. Passepartout kept looking nervously over at the figure seated in  
the window.  
  
Rebecca and the other two hailed a cab and climbed aboard. I quickly  
dropped from my perch in the tree, and scrambled after them. I kept up with  
them easily, and soon found myself outside the headquarters of the Secret  
Service once more. Rebecca and the other two left their cab and hurried up  
the steps and inside. I also hurried into my building, the building across  
the street, and once more took my usual observation spot. Sure enough, a  
moment later, the three I was following entered Rebecca's office. They  
talked for several moments, then Rebecca began looking through her desk  
drawers, finally coming up with a file folder. She began looking through  
it.  
  
Rebecca soon found the document, or whatever it was she was looking for, and  
held it aloft in triumph. Phileas and Jules looked at each other, then  
followed Rebecca as she rushed out the door. I hurried over to the spot  
opposite Sir Jonathan Chatsworth's office. My hunch was correct. Rebecca  
burst through the door and thrust the paper she held into Chatsworth's  
hands. He looked at it for a moment, then tossed it back to her, nodding  
his head almost angrily, it seemed. Then, just as quickly as she had  
entered, Rebecca swept out of Chatsworth's office. I hurried back to the  
post across from her office, and waited.  
  
And waited.  
  
And waited.  
  
Rebecca did not return for at least thirty minutes. I began to worry. I  
hurried over to the Chatsworth observation post. All I saw there was  
Chatsworth talking to another agent, one I did not recognize. I went back  
to my other post. Still no Rebecca in her office.  
  
Where did she go? I fought back the panic that I felt creep in. She had  
not left the building, at least not from the main entrance, which was  
visible to me from either of my observation posts. Perhaps she had left  
through another exit. I'm certain that there had to be more than one exit  
to the Secret Service headquarters. She had outwitted me!  
  
I was just about to head back to the Aurora when I saw a horse and carriage  
approach from down the street. The carriage was laden with cargo. I could  
not see much of what it was, since it was covered in some sort of giant  
cloth. As it approached the headquarters, my Rebecca finally appeared. She  
hurried down the steps, Phileas and Jules on her heels, and she examined the  
cargo once the carriage stopped in front of her. She looked underneath the  
cloth, and, finally satisfied, nodded up at the driver. She hailed another  
cab, got in, let Phileas and Jules get in with her, and her cab took off.  
The cargo carriage followed right after Rebecca.  
  
I followed them and we arrived quickly at the Aurora. I scrambled back into  
my usual tree, and settled in to watch.  
  
As the cargo carriage approached, I saw another large carriage approaching  
from the opposite direction, converging upon the Aurora and arriving at the  
same time Rebecca and her cargo arrived. As Rebecca, Phileas, and Jules  
exited their cab, I saw Passepartout jump out of the other carriage, a large  
smile on his face.  
  
Phileas went over to Passepartout and began talking, rather loudly, to his  
valet. Passepartout kept grinning, while Phileas seemed to be berating him  
for something. Phileas pointed back at the Aurora several times. Perhaps  
he was upset at Passepartout for leaving the airship with the large man  
still  
inside, alone. Yes, the large man was still seated in the window. From  
what I could tell, he had not shifted since we left.  
  
Passepartout hurried back to his carriage, and swept back a cloth that was  
concealing his cargo. Phileas, Rebecca, and Jules walked over to look at  
what he had revealed. They appeared to be three chairs. The chairs were  
each  
mounted on separate square platforms, with what looked like handlebars from  
a bicycle in front of them. Underneath the platforms were... It is hard to  
describe them as I have never seen their like before. The platforms had  
wheels underneath. And yet, the wheels were not in touch with the ground.  
Some sort of looped band of what appeared to be metal went around the wheels  
on each side of the chair platforms. It was this odd band of metal that  
would meet the ground, the wheels turning within the band of metal. An  
engine of some sort rode between the two wheel-sets underneath the  
platforms, with a pipe stretching out and upwards behind the back of the  
chairs. I knew not what the odd contraptions could possibly be.  
  
Phileas looked at the chair platforms, and shrugged, shaking his head.  
Jules looked at them carefully, pointing at things and discussing their  
design with Passepartout as the two of them struggled to haul them on board  
the Aurora's cargo area. Rebecca, meanwhile, chuckled, and went back to her  
cargo carriage.  
  
With the help of her driver, Rebecca began unloading supplies and equipment  
from her cargo carriage. I saw many fur-lined items, several crates that  
seemed to indicate food was within, and various weapons. She and the driver  
hurried to load everything into the airship.  
  
Phileas, meanwhile, simply went aboard the Aurora empty-handed. He looked  
over at the large man, once, then sat down at the table in the main cabin,  
and watied.  
  
Eventually, everything was aboard, and the carriages and cabs departed.  
Phileas, Passepartout, Jules, and my Rebecca were once more aboard and in  
the main cabin. They spoke for several minutes. Then Passepartout stepped  
up to the controls, and looked back at Phileas. Phileas said something, and  
then I saw the large man at the window say one word. I could not hear what  
he said.  
  
Passepartout started up the Aurora, and the airship lifted into the sky once  
more. It headed north this time, and it flew into the clouds.  
  
My Rebecca was off on another assignment. And I would wait for her return.  
  
I sensed something a few moments after Rebecca left. I looked up into the  
sky, and saw something I had not seem in quite some time. It was Them.  
They were following my Rebecca. I saw Them fly overhead in their own dark  
airship, and I felt angry. I could do nothing to help my Rebecca. She was  
flying away from me, and my former employers were after her again.  
  
I slammed my fist against the tree in frustration.  
  
Good luck, dear, sweet Rebecca...  
  
#####  
*****  
  
The Aurora flew steadily northward on its quest for the Arctic. Having left  
Scotland behind, the airship glided into the twilight-time in which the  
northern reaches were currently existing.  
  
Passepartout, standing at the steering globe, was cheerfully chatting with  
the Creature, who was still immobile and silent as he sat at the front  
window. Well, perhaps "chatting" was stretching it a bit, as it was  
Passepartout who was doing all of the talking.  
  
"And he walked off, never to be seen from again!" Passepartout concluded his  
latest tale. "Let me see, then what was happening to us? Oh yes! And then  
we--"  
  
"Port five degrees," the Creature's deep voice rumbled.  
  
Everyone in the Aurora jumped at the sound of the voice. It was the first  
time the Creature had spoken since before they had landed back in England.  
  
"Begging pardnering?" Passepartout asked, nervously.  
  
"The airship, adjust our course, five degrees to port," the Creature said,  
pointing in the direction he wished to go. Passepartout nodded, and  
silently aimed the Aurora along the Creature's desired course.  
  
Jules cleared his throat, and carefully approached the Creature. "Um, I've  
been thinking. About your... request."  
  
The Creature turned, and looked up at Jules. "Yes?"  
  
"Well, the way I see it, about the only way that we could be sure of  
completely... um, how shall I put this... killing you," Jules began.  
  
"That would be a good way of putting it," the Creature agreed.  
  
"Yes. Well, you see, I think the best way is to separate your brain from  
the rest of your body. Brain death, and consequently body death."  
  
The Creature looked into Jules' eyes and thought for a moment. Then the  
Creature heaved his massive bulk upwards, and walked over to one of the  
walls, and grabbed a nearby sword. He turned back to Jules, and thrust it  
handle-forward at Jules. "Here. Take it."  
  
Jules tentatively took the sword.  
  
"Do it," the Creature said.  
  
Jules looked down at the sword, then back up at the Creature. "What?"  
  
"I said DO IT!" growled the Creature.  
  
Jules tightened his grip on the sword, a nervous reflex in response to the  
Creature's shout. Jules looked back down at the sword in his hand. "I  
can't," he said quietly.  
  
The Creature stepped right up to Jules and bent down to look into the  
smaller man's eyes. "Why not?"  
  
Jules said simply, "It would be wrong. I just can't."  
  
The Creature swept the sword from Jules' hands, and turned to face Phileas,  
who was watching silently nearby. "And what about you, sir?" Phileas  
looked at the Creature, but kept his mouth shut. "And you, madame?" the  
Creature asked, turning to Rebecca. Rebecca pursed her lips, and cast her  
eyes downwards. "How about you, my good man?" the Creature continued, his  
gaze falling upon a nervous Passepartout. Passepartout quickly shook his  
head.  
  
"Now you know why I have been unable to complete my journey for lo these  
many years. Even though I had died, I was now alive again. And those few  
men and women who were sympathetic to my plight also failed the test of  
courage. Inherently good-intentioned, their very moral nature denied them  
the ability to take my life."  
  
Jules walked over to the Creature. "I'm sorry. I just thought... I thought  
I had a solution. A clean, scientific solution."  
  
The Creature looked down at Jules, almost fondly. "And I appreciate it, my  
friend. However, I must find the answer elsewhere. Which is why we are  
heading north."  
  
The Creature walked solemnly back to the wall, and replaced the sword into  
its mount. He turned back to the window, and resumed his position, but  
remained standing instead of sitting down.  
  
"Well, that was rather awkward," Phileas said, which earned him a hard thump  
to his chest from Rebecca. The two Foggs went to sit down at the nearby  
table, and were soon joined by Jules.  
  
"I'm sorry, I was trying to help," Jules apologized quietly.  
  
Rebecca sushed him. "Don't worry, Jules. He appreciates it, I'm sure.  
He's just not quite as well-versed in manners as *some* of us are." With a  
raised eyebrow she glanced at Phileas.  
  
"What can you possibly mean by--" Phileas began. He broke off as he noticed  
the Aurora beginning to shudder, slightly at first, then more roughly.  
  
"Passepartout!" Phileas called.  
  
Passepartout looked back at Phileas. "Master, I am thinking it is getting  
too cold for the Aurora. She is not meant to be taking these stresses and  
coldnesses."  
  
The airship juddered violently, and plummetted briefly, before Passepartout  
quickly regained control. Loud, angry creaking noises emanated from all  
around them as the ship fought the environment in which it found itself.  
  
"Passepartout, get us down, quickly!" Phileas shouted urgently.  
  
"With pleasure, Master!" Passepartout replied just as urgently. He adjusted  
some levers, shifted the steering globe, and began to ease the Aurora down  
to the surface of the ice below as best he could under the circumstances.  
Several minutes, and many creaks and groans and shudders later, Passepartout  
landed the Aurora with a sudden rough jolt. Landing on the ice, the airship  
skidded across the slick surface for a short distance, then finally, with a  
last, horrific-sounding cracking noise, the craft came to a complete stop.  
  
The crew inside picked themselves up off the floor. All except for the  
Creature, who had somehow kept his balance throughout the entire ordeal.  
The Creature turned, and watched his companions stand up. "We are closer,  
but we are not there yet. We must go." With that, the Creature walked  
resolutely to the door, and jumped out of the airship.  
  
Rebecca raised her eyebrows. "Well, he seems determined."  
  
Phileas nodded. "I think it's best if we get ready for our expedition,  
don't you?"  
  
Rebecca nodded. "Mmm. Indeed." She turned, and headed back towards her  
room, went inside, and shut the door.  
  
Phileas and Jules turned to each other. "Seems rather chilly out, don't you  
think?" Phileas asked, a slight smile on his face.  
  
"I'm going to get some more clothes on," Jules said as he headed down the  
corridor.  
  
"Excellent idea," Phileas agreed. "Passepartout, start checking the ship,  
look for any breaks or failures. Check on everything. I'll get you your  
overcoat."  
  
"Thank you, Master," Passepartout smiled as he went to retrieve his tools.  
"Right away, Master!"  
  
*****  
  
A short while later, Phileas, Jules and Passepartout had joined the Creature  
outside the airship. Passepartout was just finishing checking out the  
condition of the Aurora. He was clad in a large black coat that seemed a  
few sizes too large for him.  
  
"All is seemingly well, Master," Passepartout reported. "But they will not  
be staying so as long as we are staying in this freezing."  
  
"Understood, Passepartout," Phileas replied curtly. Phileas was now dressed  
in a large black greatcoat, which was belted tight against the cold. "Shall  
we begin unloading, Jules?"  
  
Jules nodded, shaking with the cold. Jules had added a heavy brown overcoat  
to his ensemble, along with a thick woolen scarf which wrapped around his  
neck. He thumped his gloved hands together to keep the circulation going.  
"Sounds good," he replied.  
  
The three men turned to head for the cargo area, but were stopped short by  
the emergence of Rebecca from the inside of the Aurora. Rebecca was wearing  
an exact copy of her traditional leather catsuit. However, this particular  
version was entirely in white, from the skin-tight leather to the  
form-fitting corset and its other various accessories. A white fur-lined  
collar added a touch of warmth to the outfit, as did the white fur peeking  
out over the tops of the white boots she wore. The white catsuit was  
covered by a large, gorgeous white greatcoat, which Rebecca proceeded to  
button up and cinch shut. A fur-lined hood hung off the shoulders of the  
white greatcoat. White gloves completed the ensemble.  
  
Rebecca jumped down from the doorway and landed gracefully on her feet.  
  
"I say, Rebecca," Phileas said, the first to recover his voice. "I don't  
think I've ever seen that particular outfit before."  
  
"There are many outifts of mine that you've never seen before, Phileas,"  
Rebecca teased. "Shall we unload our cargo?" She smiled as she headed  
towards the rear of the Aurora.  
  
The three men quickly followed Rebecca, and helped her unload the supplies  
and equipment they had earlier retrieved back in England.  
  
As they dragged out the equipment, and set the boxes and the large equipment  
onto the icy ground, Phileas turned to Passepartout. "What do you call  
these contraptions again, Passepartout?"  
  
"Ah!" Passepartout cried gleefully. "They are my snow-steamers!"  
  
"Snow-steamers?" said Jules.  
  
"Yes, Master Jules," Passepartout nodded. "They are steam-powered, and  
these treadmill devices on the wheels are making the travel very fast in the  
snow and icy places." He grinned from ear to ear.  
  
"And how does one ride a snow-steamer?" Rebecca asked, studying the three  
strange vehicles they finished unloading.  
  
Passepartout pointed at a button on the engine next to a small crank-handle.  
"To start it you press the button while being cranky."  
  
"Well, Phileas should have no problem, then," Rebecca chuckled.  
  
Phileas threw a glove at her.  
  
Passepartout pointed at the handle-bars. "These are like on bicycles, you  
steering with these." He pointed at two large-ish buttons where one's feet  
would go. "These are the start and go buttons, you press them with your  
feet. Right one is 'go', left one is 'stop'. Is very simple. And to be  
going more faster, press down further on the right 'go' button."  
  
"Ah," Phileas said, peering at the engines housed behind each vehicle's  
seat. "And are we quite sure they're safe?"  
  
Passepartout's smile faded ever so briefly, but quickly returned. "As sure  
as we are going to be!" he enthused.  
  
Phileas looked at his valet. "Well, I suppose it'll have to do, if we're to  
continue any further."  
  
They proceeded to load one of the three snow-steamers with extra food and  
provisions, another with some additional weapons, and the third with some  
basic survival gear. Once everything was loaded and ready to go, Phileas  
turned to Passepartout.  
  
"Passepartout," Phileas said, "I'm afraid we'll need you to stay behind and  
look after the Aurora. Make sure she's safe and warm."  
  
"Yes, Master," Passepartout smiled. "I will be careful. We are not wanting  
to find me frozen like that other time!"  
  
"Indeed not!" Phileas agreed. "Thank you, Passepartout." He turned to the  
rest of their group. "Now, who's going on which snow-steamer?"  
  
The Creature suddenly lumbered toward them. He pressed the starter button  
and spun the crank-handle. The engine thrummed confidently to life. The  
Creature hopped up onto the snow-steamer and sat down. Gripping the  
handle-bars, he turned to face the others. "The ones who are following me,  
they are getting closer. We must hurry." With that, he faced forward and  
slammed his right foot down onto the go-button. His snow-steamer sped  
quickly away.  
  
"Right," Phileas said determinedly, watching the Creature depart. "Two  
left for the three of us. How do you propose we arrange ourselves?" He  
turned around, to find Jules seated behind Rebecca on one of the remaining  
snow-steamers, its engine already humming. Rebecca reached into a pocket,  
and pulled out some goggles. She threw a pair to Phileas, handed one to  
Jules, and placed a pair over her own eyes.  
  
"Hang on, Jules," Rebecca shouted. Jules barely had his goggles in place  
and had wrapped his arms around Rebecca's waist when their snow-steamer sped  
forward. "Come along, Phileas, do keep up!" Rebecca called out.  
  
Phileas looked at the remaining snow-steamer. "Well, I suppose that answers  
that," he said. He hopped up, and sat down in the snow-steamer's seat, put  
on his goggles, and gripped the handle-bars. "Passepartout, would you be so  
kind?" Passepartout got the engine going, then stood back.  
  
"We'll be back as soon as we can," Phileas called. "Until then, take care!"  
He jammed his foot down onto the go-button, and the snow-steamer juddered  
uneasily forward. Eventually the engine steadied and he zoomed quickly  
away. "Typical!" Passepartout heard his Master shout.  
  
Passepartout watched them go, stamping his feet to keep himself warm. "Good  
luck," he said quietly. With that, he turned about, climbed back into  
the Aurora, and set to work.  
  
*****  
  
Rebecca stamped down on the go-button, and her snow-steamer leapt forward.  
She could still see the Creature up ahead, his own snow-steamer roaring  
onwards. Glancing back, she spotted Phileas on his snow-steamer making his  
way towards her. She looked forward once more, and steered towards the  
Creature.  
  
As Rebecca concentrated on steering and avoiding the numerous ice gorges and  
crevasses, Jules swept his gaze around. He stopped as he spotted a number  
of small dark shapes, which appeared to be heading in their direction. He  
nudged Rebecca, and shouted in her ear to be heard above the rushing wind  
and the noise of the engine. "We're being followed!"  
  
Rebecca glanced back, saw where Jules was pointing, and frowned. Wonderful.  
Company. So that's what the Creature meant. He had known they were after  
them. Continuing to shift her gaze from steering to checking on the  
pursuit, Rebecca eventually discerned that they were being followed by six  
dogsleds, manned no doubt by soldiers of the League of Darkness. As the  
dogsleds moved closer, she could see that each of the dogsleds were being  
pulled by a team of six dogs, and each sled carried one man.  
  
Rebecca checked on the position of the Creature, then looked back at  
Phileas. She waved her left arm to get his attention, then vigorously  
pointed towards her left, the direction that the pursuers were closing in on  
them from. Phileas seemed to get the hint as he aimed his snow-steamer in  
that direction. Rebecca, meanwhile, veered off to the right, leaving the  
Creature to drive steadily forwards, ahead of the Foggs and in the dead  
center of their split.  
  
"It's working... sort of!" Jules yelled into her ear. Rebecca glanced back,  
and saw that indeed, the pursuers had split up. One dogsled was following  
Phileas, another was following Rebecca. The remaining four sleds were  
staying true to the course, and were following the Creature.  
  
"Hmm," Rebecca yelled back. "Not quite what I had hoped, but it'll do for  
now. We'll just have to hope that the Creature is resourceful enough to  
hold off until we can shake our own pursuers."  
  
Rebecca gunned the engine, and the snow-steamer sped on, churning up the  
snow as it went.  
  
*****  
  
The Creature drove resolutely on. The snow-steamer seemed a simple  
construction. It took him no time at all to master its operation. He  
pointed his snow-steamer directly towards where he needed to go, and kept  
his foot steady on the go-button.  
  
The Creature frowned, as he suddenly felt something thud into his back. He  
looked back, and saw that he was being chased by four dogsleds. The lead  
sled's passenger was pointing a pistol of some sort. Clearly he had just  
shot the Creature, and the bullet was the thud in the back. No matter.  
Bullets could do no real harm. They just itched on occasion. He turned  
back to his steering. He felt a few more bullets thud into his massive  
back. And the barking from the dogs seemed louder now. He looked back.  
Indeed, the lead dogsled was nearly upon him. The soldier had put his gun  
away, clearly realizing it was useless against the Creature.  
  
The Creature eased off on the go-button, letting his snow-steamer gently  
decrease speed. The dogsled edged ever closer. Once the soldier was within  
reach, the Creature thrust his arm out, clutched one of the soldier's hands,  
and lifted him mightily from the dogsled. The Creature heaved the soldier  
over his head, and slammed him heavily towards the frozen ground. The  
soldier's body thumped heavily into the bitterly cold surface, with a loud  
cracking sound. The soldier did not move again. The lead sleds dogs,  
meanwhile, ran off into the distance, wandering aimlessly now that its  
leader was gone.  
  
A second dogsled moved closer, but did not approach as the previous soldier  
had done. This one kept a careful distance. As the Creature glanced back,  
he saw the soldier produce a rope, which was quickly fashioned into a lasso.  
Once more, the Creature eased up on the speed of his snow-steamer. The  
soldier swung the rope about, then let loose. The lasso encircled the  
Creature's massive upper body, and the soldier pulled it tight. Once it was  
tight enough, the Creature stomped down on the go-button, and his  
snow-steamer violently jerked forward with tremendous speed. The soldier  
was yanked clear from his dogsled, and landed on his stomach, still  
clutching the rope in his gloved hands.  
  
The soldier began climbing towards the Creature's snow-steamer along the  
rope. Then the Creature slammed his foot on the stop-button, causing the  
snow-steamer to come to a complete halt almost immediately. The soldier's  
momentum on the slipperly frozen surface prevented him from stopping in  
time, and he crashed head-first into the rear of the snow-steamer. The  
Creature looked over his shoulder and down at the now-dead soldier. The  
Creature shook his head sadly, then revved up the engine and sped off once  
more. Two down, two to go.  
  
*****  
  
Phileas steered his snow-steamer steadily through the icy winds.  
Occasionally he glanced back to confirm that he was still being pursued. He  
heard a gunshot. Yes, indeed... still being pursued, Phileas, he thought  
grimly to himself.  
  
Phileas looked about himself, and examined his snow-steamer. He had the  
fortune of being left with the one laden with the food and provisions. Not  
the one with the weapons. He imagined that Rebecca had somehow  
"accidentally" chosen that one. Fortunately, Phileas did have his trusty  
pistol in its holster by his hip. Keeping one hand on the handle-bars, and  
zig-zagging as best he could to avoid being shot, Phileas drew his pistol.  
  
Without turning back to aim his shot, Phileas pointed and fired once, hoping  
against hope to find his target. Another bullet whizzed past his ear,  
confirming that his blind shooting had not paid off. Phileas sighed, and  
looked backwards. He aimed and fired twice. The soldier on the dogsled  
pursuing him was also weaving about, no doubt sensing that a straight line  
was a stupid proposition once bullets were being fired at him. However, as  
Phileas watched, he sensed a definite pattern to the evasion tactics. The  
dogsled would veer first to the right, then back to center. Then it would  
veer to the left, then back to center once more. Phileas grinned as he  
watched the dogsled veer to the right.  
  
Taking careful aim, Phileas lined up his shot and fired dead center behind  
him. Sure enough, the stupid bastard swerved right into the path of the  
bullet, which caught him square in the forehead. The soldier flipped  
backwards out of the dogsled, and the body tumbled to the ground, a pool of  
blood staining the pristine white surface a glistening deep red.  
  
Phileas slowed his snow-steamer, and looked around, taking stock of the  
situation. He could see the Creature off in the distance, and noticed with  
some approval that there were now only two pursuers. Good show, old chap!  
Looking past the Creature Phileas could just barely make out the forms of  
Rebecca and Jules' snow-steamer, still pursued by one lone dogsled.  
  
Phileas pressed down on the go-button, and headed towards Rebecca.  
  
*****  
  
Rebecca peered forward in the tricky twilight conditions. She had an idea,  
but needed some help from the surroundings. "Jules, what's he doing?"  
Rebecca called back to her passenger, who still clung tightly to her waist.  
  
Jules reported back to her, "He's still following us! I think he's given up  
shooting at us, thanks to your 'evasion tactics'!"  
  
"Yes, well, they worked didn't they?" Rebecca shouted cheerfully. "Just  
because you nearly fell off by not holding on tight enough doesn't mean you  
can cast aspersions on my driving!"  
  
Jules responded with a grateful squeeze around her waist, which elicited  
another warm smile from Rebecca.  
  
Rebecca glanced back to confirm the pursuer's distance, and looked ahead  
once more. A-ha! Rebecca spotted just what she needed, a short ways up  
ahead. "Hang on, Jules!" Rebecca yelled. Jules did so. Rebecca gunned the  
engine, and the snow-steamer shot forward.  
  
The doglsed kept on their tail, and indeed showed signs of gaining on them.  
As they sped further and further onwards, Jules kept looking back nervously.  
"Rebecca, they're getting closer!" he yelled.  
  
Rebecca grinned almost maniacally. "Excellent!" she shouted back in reply.  
"Jules, when I say 'Now!' I need you to jump off this snow-steamer as quick  
and as far as you can. Got it?"  
  
Jules gripped her tighter, shouting, "What?!"  
  
"Just trust me, Jules! I know what I'm doing!"  
  
Jules groaned as he clung to her.  
  
A few moments later, his teeth chattering not only from the cold, saw what  
Rebecca was intending. "Oh, my Lord," he moaned.  
  
Rebecca jammed her foot down and stomped the go-button as hard as she could.  
"Ready?" she yelled at her passenger. She checked that their pursuer was  
right behind them. He was. "NOW!" Rebecca shouted at the top of her lungs.  
  
Rebecca and Jules both heaved themselves off of the snow-steamer, Rebecca to  
the left, Jules to the right. They landed heavily in the snow and rolled  
several feet before coming to rest. Rebecca quickly stood up and crouched,  
ready for action. She needn't have worried. She watched as her abandoned  
snow-steamer raced onwards, and then quickly plummetted from view, falling  
into one of the many deep ice gorges that dotted the landscape.  
  
The soldier on the dogsled was unfortunately unaware of the gorge. His  
dogs, however were. They pulled up abruptly, and swung about, veering away  
from the edge of the gorge at the last second. The forward momentum of the  
soldier caused his body to continue flying forwards even as his dogsled  
veered left to safety. The soldier let out a harrowing scream as he fell  
swiftly down into the bottomless depths of the gorge. The scream soon faded  
away.  
  
Rebecca stood up, and smiled as she saw that Jules was safe, and was getting  
to his feet as well. She smiled even more as the abandoned dogsled team  
trotted silently over to her, and looked up at her. She reached out and  
scratched a few of the dogs behind their ears. Jules dashed over to her.  
  
"Don't ever do something like that to me again, Rebecca!" Jules panted, out  
of breath.  
  
"Why ever not?" Rebecca teased. "You could do with some excitement now and  
then."  
  
Rebecca and Jules both turned at the sound of an approaching snow-steamer.  
Phileas roared up to them and skidded to a halt. "I say, Rebecca," he said  
rather haughtily. "Passepartout is going to be very put out that you've  
lost one of his snow-steamers."  
  
Rebecca chuckled. "Well, it gives him a chance to build another one, which  
I'm sure he'll enjoy."  
  
"No doubt he'll try to improve upon his design," Jules joined in.  
  
"We'd better get after the Creature," Rebecca said sternly, dropping the  
cheery mood.  
  
"Right," Phileas said.  
  
"I'm going to ride with Phileas, if that's all right with you, Rebecca,"  
Jules said quickly as he watched her take control of the dogsled. Jules  
climbed up onto the snow-steamer and sat down behind Phileas.  
  
"Whatever you say, Jules," she said, arching an eyebrow over her protective  
goggles as she took up the reins. She urged the dogs forward, and the  
dogsled and the snow-steamer headed off towards the Creature and his  
pursuers.  
  
*****  
  
The Creature spotted something nearby. A tunnel. Excellent. He aimed for  
the opening of the ice tunnel, and steamed into it. The two remaning  
dogsleds quickly followed suit.  
  
The Creature steered his snow-steamer around fallen chunks of ice, and  
weaved and dodged to avoid the stalactites and stalagmites. Checking once  
to determine the distance to his nearest pursuer, the Creature reached out  
and broke off a huge pointed chunk of stalactite hanging from the tunnel's  
roof. Hefting it in his hand to get a better feel for it, the Creature  
steadied his course. He turned back, and almost casually tossed the broken  
ice shard at the closest of the pursuing soldiers. The sharp stalactite  
sliced into the neck of the soldier, piercing his throat and causing instant  
death. The body fell from the dogsled, and was quickly run over by the  
final dogsled, which was following close behind. The abandoned dogs  
scampered quickly away. The Creature turned foward, and continued to steer  
his way through the ice tunnel.  
  
A few moments later, the Creature's snow-steamer shot from the exit of the  
tunnel, and the Creature found himself driving over a vast lake of sheer,  
glare ice. No snow covered the surface, causing it to be especially  
slippery. The Creature stomped on the go-button once more, and sped  
forward, gaining some distance from his last pursuer. As he approached the  
center of the vast icy lake, the Creature slammed his foot down on the  
stop-button, while at the same time he twisted the handle-bars. The result  
of this was a tricky skid, which caused his snow-steamer to come to a halt  
facing the oncoming dogsled.  
  
Giving the soldier no time to react, the Creature gunned his engine once  
more, shooting forward at the oncoming dogsled. Speeding ever closer, he  
kept his course straight and steady, as did the soldier. As they got closer  
and closer, it seemed each driver was determined not to be the one to waver  
and veer off course. However, the dogs had a different idea. As the  
Creature's snow-steamer approached, the three dogs on the dogsled team's  
left decided to veer away, at the same time as the three dogs on the right  
decided to veer away as well. The two lines of dogs split apart, breaking  
loose from the dogsled and tearing the reins from the soldier's hands. The  
dogsled, however, kept zooming forward on its original course.  
  
The soldier's eyes widened as he realized what was going to happen. He saw  
the grim look in the Creature's eyes, and he tried to jump out of the  
dogsled. By that time, however, it was too late. The Creature's  
snow-steamer was upon him. As the soldier attempted to throw himself to his  
right, the treads on the snow-steamer rode over the lower half of his body,  
chewing up the skin and bones, and severing the legs and torso from the rest  
of him. The Creature rode forward a few moments, then eased up on the  
go-button, and pressed down on the stop-button. The snow-steamer slid to an  
eventual halt.  
  
The Creature tensed as he sensed movement approaching from the ice tunnel.  
But he relaxed as he realized it was not the League of Darkness, but instead  
it was Jules Verne and Phileas Fogg on a snow-steamer, and Rebecca Fogg on a  
dogsled.  
  
The three others came to a gradual halt next to the Creature on the ice  
lake. They surveyed the damage to the final dogsled and its driver. Then  
they all looked away.  
  
"Well done, old chap," Phileas said eventually.  
  
Rebecca, meanwhile, decided to round up the six dogs from the destroyed  
dogsled, and she added them to her team.  
  
"We are getting closer, yet we are not there," the Creature said tiredly.  
  
Jules piped up. "I think we could all do with a bit of rest."  
  
"Excellent suggestion, Jules," Phileas agreed. Let's get off this lake of  
ice, and set up our survival camp."  
  
They headed north once more. When they reached the steadier snow-covered  
"shore", they all disembarked from their conveyances.  
  
"Right," Phileas said, "Rebecca, if you would be so kind as to break out the  
survival gear."  
  
Rebecca headed for the equipment stored on the Creature's snow-steamer. She  
hauled out a box, and opened it. "Ummm... Phileas?" she called.  
  
Phileas spun about from helping Jules unpack some of the food and provisions  
from his snow-steamer to look at her. "Yes, Rebecca?"  
  
Rebecca held up a gun. "This isn't the survival gear. It's the extra  
weapons supply."  
  
Phileas frowned. "I thought for sure you had the weapons on your  
snow-steamer, Rebecca."  
  
"I can see where you might assume that, Phileas," Rebecca retorted, "but  
it's apparent that I didn't."  
  
Phileas grimaced. "Let me get this straight. We are in the middle of the  
Arctic. We are miles from the Aurora. We are being hunted by the League of  
Darkness. We don't know exactly where we're headed, and we have no survival  
gear. Is that about correct?"  
  
Rebecca nodded. "It would appear so."  
  
Jules looked around at the icy wastes that surrounded them. The oppressive  
dim of the ever-present twilight seemed to chill the air even more, if that  
were possible.  
  
"Now what?" Jules said grimly.  
  
*****  
#####  
  
-- Extract... Letter to Sarah Creighton, London, England --  
  
My dearest sister Sarah,  
  
At the outset I must beg your forgiveness. I know that my sudden departure  
and consequent lack of communication with you, or indeed with the rest of  
our family, must have caused you the greatest of pain. For that, I am truly  
sorry. I worry most about Mother, for I know that she doted on me very  
much, and it pains me to think that I have caused her any sort of pain at  
all.  
  
However, I beg you also to understand why I left when I did. I discovered  
that the life of a barrister in London was simply not the life for me. I  
felt conflicted each and every day that I went to work. The pressures of  
the job, and the constant pressures indeed of life in London, were crushing  
me to the point where I knew that my only recourse was to escape, and escape  
as soon as possible. Having come to that momentous decision, I collected  
certain necessities of life, and I left London.  
  
I headed north, to the icy expanses that had intrigued me ever since we read  
the letters and heard the stories of our great-uncle Robert, and his  
adventures in the frozen Arctic. I don't know what it was precisely that  
has attracted me to this region, but I know that what I knew from Uncle  
Robert's description, it was a place of rare beauty and immaculate  
desolation. Thus, I left London for the snowy climes of the Arctic.  
  
Along my journey, I collected various other supplies and materials that I  
knew I would need once I reached wherever I was destined to reach.  
Eventually I had gathered together three carts' worth of provisions and  
such, including some simple building materials. With all this in my  
caravan, I departed civilization, and in my heart of hearts I hoped never to  
return.  
  
I travelled north, using all the means of transportation that I could, even  
engaging a fishing boat at one point. The sailors all laughed as they saw  
my supplies, and scoffed that I would never survive more than one week. I  
was now more determined than ever to prove to them, and to anyone else who  
would doubt me, that I could survive, and not only survive, but flourish.  
  
Eventually I reached a large, frozen expanse of snow and ice that, once I  
set foot upon it, I knew that this was home. It is hard to describe the  
feeling. Know that I wept as I walked across the snow, looking around me,  
and understand that an indescribable joy filled my heart.  
  
I set to work, to build my new lodging. It took me quite some time.  
Fortunately I had collected enough of the correct material to get the task  
done. What I had erected was a simple two-room hut. It is not elaborate,  
by any stretch of the imagination. But it is now and forever my humble  
home.  
  
How does one survive in such a supposedly inhospitable region? To be  
honest, it is not easy. But it can be done. Stay warm, acclimatise  
yourself to the odd light cycles of the northern reaches, and make sure you  
hunt for your food supplies in advance. It is best to have several days'  
worth of food in your posession rather than search for tonight's dinner  
tonight. One never knows when a sudden storm will sweep into your region,  
and shut you inside for Lord knows how long.  
  
I thank the Maker that I was brought up to hunt and trap. It is a most  
valuable skill, let me tell you. One finds that the oddest of catches can  
be the most tasty. I will spare you the details, as I know you are a  
particularly delicate creature, and not an adventurous eater, as I recall.  
Trust me when I say that some of the food I have enjoyed has never appeared  
on a menu in any of the finer restaurants in London.  
  
I am writing to you now, after all this time, to not only assure you of my  
survival, but also to relate a most curious event that occurred recently.  
The tale I am about to tell happened approximately one year after my  
arrival. I had settled comfortably into life in the Arctic, and was content  
to know that I may never see a living human being ever again. However, that  
was not to be the case.  
  
I was starting to settle in for the evening, warming myself by my small fire  
inside my little hut. Suddenly, there was a thumping at my door. Fearing  
some creature (and there have been some fearsome non-human visitors knocking  
at my door on occasion!), I grabbed my trusty rifle, and approached the door  
carefully. I called out, asking who was there, as one does in such  
instances. Imagine my surprise when a  
human voice answered my query! Imagine by double surprise when it was a  
woman's voice that answered!  
  
"Please, sir, we need some shelter, may we come in?" the woman called back  
through the closed door.  
  
"We?" I asked, suddenly suspicious.  
  
"My cousin and I and our two friends are in need of shelter and some rest,"  
the woman replied. I heard her voice soften a bit as she continued.  
"Please, sir, we have nowhere else to turn."  
  
I frowned. This was not what I had escaped England for. Sighing, I decided  
that I could not leave fellow human beings out in the cold of the Arctic.  
Still clutching my rifle, I unbolted my door and pulled it open. The chill  
wind blew inside, along with a bit of drifting snow. Four figures tumbled  
hurriedly inside. "Is it just the four of you?" I asked, having noticed a  
sled and some dogs outside, and some curious contraptions nearby as well.  
  
The woman answered once more. "Yes, just us four."  
  
I slammed the door shut once more, and bolted it. I turned to face the new  
visitors, holding my rifle ready in case it was needed. I was met with the  
most curious collection of travellers I have ever seen. The woman was clad  
all in white, while two of her companions, both men, were wearing darker  
coats and such. The fourth visitor nearly took my breath away. He was  
gigantic! He must have been over seven feet tall. Oddly enough, he was not  
wearing any specially protective clothing, nothing to ward of the chill of  
the Arctic, apart from dark trousers and a fairly light-colored shirt. But  
beyond that, no jacket, no greatcoat, not even gloves. Yet the giant seemed  
not to be suffering from the cold.  
  
The woman swept the hood of her coat back from her head, revealing a  
beautiful mane of reddish hair. Tearing off her goggles, I saw to my  
delight that she had the most charming blue eyes. She introduced herself  
as Rebecca Fogg. Turning to the others, she introduced one of the  
overcoated men as Phileas Fogg, her cousin, and the other of the shorter men  
as Jules Verne. The fourth, the giant, she introduced simply as a friend of  
theirs.  
  
Sarah, you know that I have not been the most fortunate of men when it comes  
to relationships with women. Indeed, one might laugh if one were to know my  
history with the fairer sex. So you would know that as I met Miss Fogg, my  
heart started pumping, and I became nervous throughout my entire body. I  
politely pulled off my furred hat, and bowed to her. I welcomed them all to  
my humble home.  
  
Miss Fogg thanked me, and asked me if they might prevail upon me to spend  
the next several hours inside my hut. It seems they had just had a bit of a  
perilous journey, and needed to recuperate and plan for their next step. I  
nervously smiled, and replied that they were indeed welcome to spend a  
little time with me.  
  
I did feel obligated to explain a bit of my situation to them, in regards to  
my desire to cut myself off from civilization. To their credit, they all  
seemed to understand. Even the giant, who, without speaking a word during  
the entire time the travellers spent in my company, managed to silently  
communicate his understanding and appreciation.  
  
The younger of the men, Verne, volunteered to bring in some of their food  
supplies and a few other provisions. I let him out, and the other three and  
I set about figuring the arrangements for the night. I say "night", yet the  
level of light outside would not vary noticeably during the next several  
hours, much less the next several weeks, this being the Arctic, after all.  
  
Verne hurried back inside, carrying a box filled with some food items. We  
cooked some pieces of meat that they provided, and I added a small portion  
of my collected trappings to the meal. To finish off the meal, the  
travellers kindly shared some fruits with me, including something I had  
never tasted before, something called a "mango". It was indeed quite tasty.  
  
After completing our meal, we decided that the best course of action was to  
turn in. I had one bed, a small one, in the second, tiny room of my hut. I  
put my foot down, and insisted that the lady be afforded the luxury, what  
there was of it, of the private room and the bed. Miss Fogg, to her credit,  
seemed to regard herself as not in need of such special consideration.  
Indeed, that might be true. However, being the humble, smitten gentleman  
that I was, I insisted that she take the bed and the room. After a bit of  
friendly arguing, Miss Fogg relented, and agreed to take the room, thanking  
me with a quick kiss on my cheek. The warmth that blossomed inside me  
thanks to that kiss would have kept me alive for several years had I been  
stranded outside in the frozen wastes of the Arctic with no shelter or extra  
clothing.  
  
Miss Fogg took her leave of the rest of us, and went to my room, closing the  
door behind her. I passed out some of my few extra blankets to each of the  
men. We moved some of my clutter around, in order to give us enough room to  
allow us to bed down for the night. The giant handed back his blankets, and  
smiled. He went over to my favorite chair, and sat himself down. I turned  
to his companions. The younger one, Verne, shrugged, and informed me that  
the giant would be fine where he was. I divided up the giant's blankets  
amongst the rest of us, and we stretched out on the floor.  
  
I confess that I did not fall asleep easily that night. I was once more in  
the company of human beings, and while I was not angry with them, I was  
rather uncomfortable. However, after a short while, I did doze off for a  
few hours.  
  
I awoke the next "morning" to the smell of cooking meat. I squinted my  
eyes, and saw the older gentleman, Phileas Fogg, I believe his name was,  
silently cooking a pan of pork meat from their food supply. He and his  
cousin were already up. The giant seemed to be gone. I assumed he was  
simply outside, perhaps preparing their vehicles for departure. Verne was  
still asleep. We woke up Verne, and we divided up the pork meat. It was  
actually quite delicious.  
  
The travellers began to pack up their supplies, and insisted on leaving me  
several items of food, including some of those delicious fruits we had  
enjoyed last evening. I thanked them for their generosity. They responded  
by thanking me profusely for being so kind and hospitable. I blushed as  
Miss Fogg kissed me on the cheek once more.  
  
As we went outside, Mister Fogg said something about the giant having said  
as he had left the hut that morning that they were "very close" to their  
objective, whatever that might have been. I did not pry, as I knew it was  
none of my business. I helped them load the dogsled and the other strange  
contraptions.  
  
Verne and Mister Fogg climbed up onto one of the machines, as did the giant.  
Miss Fogg fed the dogs some food of their food, petted them all, and spoke  
with some of  
them briefly. Then she hopped onto the dogsled, and grabbed the reins.  
  
"Don't worry, Mister Walton," Rebecca called over to me as they prepared to  
depart. "We won't tell a soul that you're here."  
  
"There may be some other fellows out here, others not so friendly as us, so  
be on your guard," Phileas Fogg added.  
  
Mister Fogg and the giant started their machines, and were on their way.  
Rebecca coaxed her dogs along, and soon she was departing as well. She did  
turn back at one point, and smiled and waved at me. I smiled and waved  
back.  
  
What happened to them after their visit to my hut, I do not know. I did not  
see them or hear from them again, and it has been several months since their  
visit. I highly doubt that they would have survived very long in the Arctic  
conditions on their own. Perhaps the giant might have withstood the  
elements longer than the others.  
  
I am not sure what to make of all this. The travellers were not very  
talkative during their stay, and I did not feel it was my place to pry.  
However, I cannot help but recall the tale of our great-uncle Robert, and  
his adventures in the Arctic. I seem to remember, though as you well know  
he died when we were very young, that he too mentioned a giant in the tales  
he told us. I am doubtful that my giant was the same creature as Uncle  
Robert's.  
  
I see that I am running out of paper, so I will finish my letter. My best  
to your husband Michael, and your darling children. I cannot believe that  
young Melissa and Richard will soon be entering school! It seems like only  
yesterday when I held your newborn twins in my arms.  
  
Know that I love you, and Mother, and the rest of the family. I keep each  
of you in my hearts, and I hope that you all do the same for me. I am well,  
I am happy, and I am certain I will never see you again. Do not weep for  
me, though, unless they are tears of joy, for I know that I am truly where I  
belong.  
  
All my love,  
  
Harrison Walton  
August, 18--  
  
-- Extract ends --  
  
#####  
*****  
  
Jules watched from behind Phileas on their speeding snow-steamer as the  
Creature slowed. Phileas matched the Creature's speed, as did Rebecca on  
her dogsled. Shortly the Creature came to a complete halt before the  
entrance to what appeared to be a cave leading into a mountain of ice.  
  
The Creature dismounted from his snow-steamer, and, having stopped their  
vehicles as well, the others made to follow him. Pausing briefly at the  
entrance to the cave, the Creature turned to his fellow travellers, and  
said, "We are here. Come."  
  
Jules looked at Phileas and Rebecca in turn. Each of the Foggs had a grim  
look on their faces. Rebecca hurried over to Phileas' snow-steamer, and  
unpacked a couple of torches which she then lit with Passepartout's  
brand-new "always-lighting" flame-maker, which she kept in one of her  
catsuit's pouches. She handed one torch each to Phileas and Jules, and the  
three friends moved forward to follow the Creature into the cave.  
  
The light from their torches danced around the white, blue and black  
surfaces of the ice, causing all manner of shadows to jump at them. After  
trudging forward for about fifteen minutes, the Creature eventually came to  
a halt. The cave had dead-ended. Jules leaned forward as he noticed  
something on the ground near the end of the tunnel, but something held him  
back from approaching closer.  
  
The Creature bent down, and gazed at the small selection of items sitting on  
the ground in front of him. There were a few short wooden planks, and a  
number of small stones gathered together. Two small strips of cloth, now  
frozen into the icy ground, formed the shape of a make-shift crucifix.  
  
Turning to his companions, the Creature spoke. "Here lies what remains of  
my creator, my Father. Victor Frankenstein. After his funeral pyre had  
completely burnt itself out, I collected what I could, and found the nearest  
shelter I could. Which was this cave. I buried him, and placed these items  
  
here as a remembrance."  
  
The Creature sat down heavily, hands on his knees, and he shut his eyes. "I  
must try to contact him. I do not know how long this will take."  
  
Jules nodded, and said softly, "Of course. Is there anything else we can  
do?"  
  
The Creature shook his head. "No, but I thank you for your offer. This  
must I do alone."  
  
Jules turned to Rebecca and Phileas. "I don't know about you, but I'm  
freezing."  
  
Rebecca chuckled quietly, and Phileas smiled thinly.  
  
Jules, Rebecca, and Phileas watched the Creature for a short time, then,  
feeling a bit tired, they all sat down to rest themselves. Jules kept his  
eyes glued on the Creature, silent and unmoving in front of his father's  
marker. Yawning, Jules felt his eyelids drooping, drooping...  
  
*****  
  
"Yes, Father, I understand." The Creature's voice rang out in the silence,  
jolting Jules, Phileas and Rebecca to consciousness. The three weary  
travellers had all dozed off during the Creature's meditation.  
  
The Creature stood up, and faced his companions. They stood up as well, and  
looked expectantly at him.  
  
"I have spoken with my Father," the Creature said to them. "I know what it  
is I must do now, to end this."  
  
Jules smiled, and stepped forward. "Fascinating! What must we do?"  
  
"You must hold still, and put your hands in the air!" another voice rang out  
in the icy cavern.  
  
Jules spun about, to find Count Gregory, hideous as ever in his separated  
form, rolling forward in his wheeled conveyance. Behind the Count, two  
dozen League of Darkness soldiers covered them with all manner of rifles and  
pistols. Jules resignedly raised his arms, as did Rebecca and Phileas.  
  
"I have waited long enough," Count Gregory continued. "Finally, the secret  
of the Frankenstein Creature is within my grasp!"  
  
His maniacal laughter echoed in the cave, out through the tunnel, and over  
the icy wastes of the frozen Arctic...  
  
*****  
  
Count Gregory and his League of Darkness minions transported Jules, Rebecca,  
Phileas and the Creature back to the airship Prometheus. During the long  
ride back on the enlarged dogsled carriage, no one said a word. There was  
nothing to be said. Not to mention the fact that it seemed to have gotten  
even colder outside.  
  
Upon reaching the Prometheus, the soldiers disembarked from their transport  
and ushered the Creature and his friends inside the airship.  
  
"Get us airborne, immediately," Count Gregory ordered as he went aboard. A  
soldier nodded and scurried off.  
  
The Creature, Jules, Phileas, and Rebecca were taken to a chamber in the  
craft which resembled a laboratory of some sort. Tables, chemicals,  
potions, electrical equipment, and various other hard-to-identify pieces of  
equipment littered the floor and covered the walls. A quartet of soldiers  
led the Creature over to an operating table, and forced him to lay down.  
Once he was on his back, the Creature was strapped in by several tough  
straps and buckles, and also several bands of metal.  
  
Jules looked at Phileas as he felt the engines rumble, and staggered  
slightly as the airship hurriedly took to the sky. "Not exactly a smooth  
take-off", Jules whispered. Phileas began to reply, but broke off as Count  
Gregory rolled into the lab.  
  
The Count took up a position across from Jules, Phileas, and Rebecca.  
Gregory swivelled to face the Creature, then ordered, "Everyone out, now!"  
He turned again. "You two!" he called, pointing at two observers, "remain  
on guard with us, and keep your weapons ready." The two observers nodded,  
and pulled out their pistols.  
  
Gregory faced the Creature once more. "The famous Frankenstein Monster," he  
breathed. "I had hoped one day to be face to face with you. Now that you  
are under my power, I will have your secret. The secret of your continued  
existence."  
  
Phileas barked a harsh laugh. "Ha! That's quite humorous. What's the  
point? You've already existed for centuries."  
  
Gregory refused to face Phileas, and continued to stare at the Creature.  
The Creature stared resolutely back at Gregory. "Do you call this an  
'existence'?" the Count sneered. "A 'life'? In this form? No, Mister  
Fogg. This abomination of a vessel in which I am currently housed is not  
what I would call a life. I want what he has. A complete body. A body  
impervious to death, a body capable of enduring extreme heat, extreme cold.  
A body that I could grant me a true life."  
  
The Creature growled at the Count. "You fool. To be returned from death.  
That is no life. It is an insult to God, an insult to nature. *I* am the  
true abomination. You are merely an idiot."  
  
Gregory frowned. "I refuse to waste any more time with these pathetic  
attempts at infuriating me. You will tell me the secret of your rebirth,  
and you will tell me now."  
  
The Creature turned away from the Count, and looked up at the ceiling. "I  
do not know."  
  
Gregory began to fume. "Lies! You must know! And you will tell me!"  
  
The Creature said nothing. Gregory looked around frantically. His eyes  
alit upon his other prisoners. A smile creased his broken face. "Ahhh."  
Gregory moved closer to the Creature. "You will tell me, or I will kill  
your friends."  
  
Again, the Creature refused to speak.  
  
Gregory looked at the prisoners. "Shall it be Jules Verne? Or Phileas  
Fogg? Or perhaps Rebecca Fogg?"  
  
The Creature blinked.  
  
"A-ha!" Gregory hissed. "Very well. Observers, point your weapons at  
Rebecca Fogg!" The Count's minions did as they were instructed, aiming  
their pistols at Rebecca's head. Rebecca thrust her jaw defiantly forward,  
refusing to be intimidated.  
  
Gregory looked closer at the Creature. "Surely you would not allow a young  
woman to be killed on your account, would you? Now, you will tell me your  
secret."  
  
"I know not how I continue to be," the Creature said quietly. "I promise  
you. It is a mystery to me."  
  
Gregory narrowed his eyes. "Very well. I am sad that it has come to this."  
He turned to his observers. "I shall count to three. If I do not have the  
Creature's compliance by the count of three, you are instructed to fire your  
weapons and kill Rebecca Fogg."  
  
Turning back to the Creature, Count Gregory sneered, "It is now in your  
hands. Give me the secret of your life, and I will give you Rebecca's life.  
Refuse to share your secret, and I will take Rebecca's life. One... Two...  
Th--"  
  
A gunshot rang out.  
  
The Creature screamed, as if pulling the anger from the depths of his very  
soul. Concentrating all his energy and strength, the Creature strained  
against the devices holding him to the operating table. He burst through  
them, and sat up. He growled, and jumped at Count Gregory. One massive  
shove from the Creature, and Count Gregory was thrown backwards against the  
wall, his body striking the surface with such force that it broke up, and  
various parts of the Count's body scattered across the floor.  
  
Across the lab, a bullet slammed into its target. Rebecca flinched. She  
whirled about as she realized she was not the one who had been shot. She  
hurled herself to the floor as the two observers, one still holding his  
pistol, the other weaponless and bleeding profusely from the wrist, lurched  
at each other. Rebecca scrambled away from the two observers, and joined  
Jules and Phileas who, knowing that Rebecca was fine, had rushed over to  
examine the scattered parts of Count Gregory.  
  
"I think he's dead," Jules said.  
  
"I doubt that this will keep the Count out of action for very long," Phileas  
said, shaking his head. "What's with those two?"  
  
Rebecca shrugged. "No idea." She looked around. "Where has our friend  
gone?"  
  
Jules and Phileas also looked around. There was no sign of the Creature.  
"I think he's getting out of here," Jules said.  
  
"An excellent idea, Verne, let's go," Phileas instructed. The three  
travellers hurried out of the door, leaving the two observers struggling and  
wrestling for control of the pistol behind them.  
  
*****  
  
Entering the corridor, they found several bodies of League of Darkness  
soldiers lying on the floor. "I'd say he went this way," Rebecca said with  
an arched eyebrow. She bent down and collected a several pistols from the  
bodies.  
  
"Indeed," Phileas agreed, taking one of the pistols that Rebecca handed him.  
"Let's see if we can catch up with him."  
  
They hurried off. The trail of bodies led them to an open-air observation  
deck on the port side of the airship, near the tail. Jules looked down, and  
quickly wished he hadn't. They were cruising at a very high elevation, and  
the ice below looked particularly hard and painful.  
  
"Look! Over there!" Rebecca called out.  
  
Jules spun about and saw where Rebecca was pointing. He saw the Creature,  
climbing a mooring rope. As Jules watched, the Creature reached the top,  
and pulled himself over.  
  
"What on Earth is he doing?" Phileas said, confused.  
  
Then it dawned on Jules. He knew what the Creature was doing, where he was  
heading. "We've got to follow him," he said, grabbing one of the nearby  
mooring ropes.  
  
Phileas looked at him, aghast. "What? Verne, are you mad? The Creature  
clearly is, but I thought you were better than that."  
  
Jules shook his head. "I know what he's doing. I want to be there."  
  
"What?" Phileas said, frowning. "I say we go forward, and take over the  
controls of this ship. Leave him to his madness."  
  
Rebecca touched Phileas' arm. "Phileas, no." She looked at Jules. "I want  
to be there, too."  
  
Jules looked at her. "You understand, too?" He smiled sadly as she nodded  
back at him. "Well, come on then." Jules began to climb the mooring rope,  
and headed for the top of the airship.  
  
Rebecca thrust her pistol into a holster, and grabbed another rope. She  
looked over at Phileas. "You have to come, too," she said sternly.  
  
Phileas sighed, and said, "Yes, Rebecca." He shoved his pistol into his  
belt, and started climing another nearby mooring rope.  
  
Phileas was the last to reach the top of the airship. He looked around, and  
saw that Jules and Rebecca had already found the Creature. The giant figure  
towered over his two friends at the rear of the "roof" of the craft.  
Phileas carefully trotted over to join them. "Would someone mind telling me  
what the hell is going on up here?" Phileas demanded.  
  
Jules turned to face Phileas, and replied sadly, "He's come up here to die."  
  
Phileas looked around. "What? He's going to jump to his death?"  
  
Jules shook his head. "No, Fogg. Not exactly."  
  
Phileas looked at the Creature. The Creature had his back to them, and was  
looking over the edge and down at the whirling blades of the Prometheus'  
giant rear propellers. "Oh, my God," Phileas breathed.  
  
The Creature replied without turning to face Phileas. "Your God had already  
decreed that my existence be ended a long time ago. I am merely righting a  
wrong that should never have been committed. Jules Verne, I have thought  
about your suggestion. I understand that you cannot sever my head and my  
brain from my body. This will. Father told me what I had to do. He always  
knew what to do."  
  
The Creature turned around, and looked at Jules. "I wish you could have met  
my Father. You both have the same gift of thinking beyond the limits of  
human imagination. Perhaps if you had known him, this might never have..."  
The Creature trailed off.  
  
Looking at Phileas, the Creature continued. "Phileas Fogg. Thank you for  
your assistance. Without your airship I might never have reached my  
destination. At the very least, I would have had to suffer even longer.  
Thank you for helping to shorten my existence."  
  
Rebecca felt a tear itch at the corner of her eye as the Creature looked at  
her. She wasn't quite sure that it was the icy cold wind that was causing  
her to well up. "Rebecca Fogg," the Creature's voice rumbled. "Thank you  
for your help and your kindness. Your caring nature brightened my short  
time with you."  
  
The Creature turned back to Jules. "Tell Passepartout that I enjoyed his  
stories very much. Tell him I wish I could have met Steeley Joe."  
  
Jules smiled. "I will."  
  
The Creature sighed heavily, and straightened himself, standing taller and  
prouder than he had in a long time. With a simple, final "Good-bye" to his  
three friends, the Creature turned around, and hurled his massive bulk over  
the edge of the top of the airship. The Creature's body arced downwards  
swiftly. He had aimed himself perfectly, and he fell in such a manner as to  
cause his neck to be sliced clean from the rest of his body as it reached  
the giant swirling propeller blades of the Prometheus. The momentum of the  
fall and the spinning blades hurled the Creature's beheaded body up and  
around, and it landed square in the middle of the blades. The blades sliced  
and sliced, chopping the body of the Creature into many pieces. As the body  
pieces were separated, they flew about, and struck more blades. The body  
parts slammed into the blades with such force that the blades bent, and  
some even broke completely.  
  
The giant airship shuddered violently as its guiding propellers quickly fell  
apart and ceased functioning properly. The craft lurched suddenly to  
starboard, throwing Phileas, Rebecca, and Jules off their feet. They  
slammed into the roof of the airship, and began sliding in the direction of  
the airship's sudden direction change. The three frantically scrambled  
about as they slid, clutching at the roof, and finally grabbed hold of some  
mooring ropes. Their slide to oblivion halted, they looked at each other as  
they hung onto the ropes.  
  
The Prometheus continued to veer to starboard, and now began to aim itself  
downwards at the icy surface of the Arctic. As Jules looked down once more,  
he could see that they were much closer to the ground than before he had  
climbed up onto the roof of the ship. He looked back at Rebecca and  
Phileas. "Now what?" Jules shouted at them over the rushing icy winds.  
  
Rebecca merely smiled, and said, "Shall we hitch a lift?"  
  
Jules frowned at her, confused. She looked past him. Jules turned to  
follow her gaze.  
  
Approaching the falling airship swiftly was the welcome sight of the  
Aurora. The Aurora was crusing steadily, matching its course to the diving  
Prometheus in order to intercept it at the point from which Jules, Phileas  
and Rebecca were currently hanging. Jules could see a concerned  
Passepartout at the controls. Passepartout waved at them and grinned  
broadly, clearly relieved to see them all safe. Passepartout waved his  
arms, and pointed down. Jules looked underneath the Aurora. Sure enough,  
there was the Aurora's landing platform, dangling beneath the airship and  
approaching steadily.  
  
Phileas leapt across to the safety of the platform as it got close enough.  
Then Jules took his jump, and landed on his shaky legs. Phileas helped to  
steady him, then they both turned to catch Rebecca as she leapt nimbly from  
her mooring rope onto the Aurora's landing platform. Holding each other  
tightly in the brisk winds, they watched as the Prometheus headed for the  
ground. As the Aurora's platform began to ascend, they looked at one  
another, and hugged.  
  
The landing platform rose, and finally made it up to the main body of the  
Aurora. Phileas, Rebecca and Jules rushed off of the platform and dashed  
forward to the main cabin, offering their heartfelt thanks to  
Passepartout, who continued to guide the Aurora with a steady hand. As they  
watched out the main window, they saw the Prometheus fall closer and closer  
to the ground. With a sudden jarring halt of its forward motion, the  
Prometheus struck the icy ground nose first. The front of the airship  
crumpled, and the rest of the craft settled heavily down to the ground.  
  
Jules looked at Rebecca. "Um... don't they usually explode or something?"  
  
Rebecca nodded, watching the Prometheus as it rested almost peacefully on  
the icy surface. "Yes, they do, usually."  
  
Phileas pursed his lips, pondering the view. "How very odd." Turning his  
back on the sight, Phileas addressed his valet. "Passepartout, would you be  
so kind as to set a course for home?"  
  
"Absolutely, Master," Passepartout said.  
  
Phileas nodded, and began walking towards the rear of his airship. He  
paused as he passed Passepartout, and said softly, "I am glad to see you are  
safe and well, Passepartout."  
  
Passepartout smiled as he replied, "As am I you, Master."  
  
Phileas smiled, and continued on his way.  
  
*****  
  
Several hours later, the Aurora passed over the coast of Scotland.  
  
Phileas, Jules, and Rebecca sat at the table in the main cabin. A number of  
empty bottles sat in front of Phileas, while one half-empty bottle rested  
between Jules and Rebecca.  
  
Phileas topped off another glass for himself, and raised it in the air. "I  
wish to make a toast," he declared, his speech only slightly slurred. "To  
our friend, the Creature." He paused, thinking hard. "We can't keep  
calling him 'the Creature', can we? I mean, it's embarrassing."  
  
Jules shrugged. "It's what he preferred to call himself."  
  
"I agree, Phileas," Rebecca said. "I say he needs a name, a proper name."  
  
Phileas squinted, pondering the thought. "How about Fred?" he eventually  
said. "It's a nice name, Fred."  
  
Rebecca scowled, and looked at her cousin. "'Frederick Frankenstein'?" she  
said.  
  
Phileas looked at her, then smirked. "Hmmm. Yes, it is a bit silly, isn't  
it?"  
  
"What about Victor?" Passepartout called back to them from his position at  
the controls.  
  
Rebecca smiled as she looked over at Passepartout. "How charmingly and  
poetically appropriate, Passepartout," she said warmly.  
  
Passepartout smiled as he continued. "For his Father, and for his  
triumphing over his cruel fate."  
  
Phileas raised his glass. "To Victor Frankenstein!" he toasted.  
  
"To Victor Frankenstein!" they all chimed in as they clinked their glasses  
and drank their toast.  
  
"May he finally rest in peace," Jules said softly, a bit sadly.  
  
Rebecca glared over at Phileas. "Don't even *think* of saying it, Phileas,"  
she hissed at her cousin.  
  
Phileas looked at her, pretending to have no idea what she meant.  
  
*****  
#####  
  
I was cold. I could barely move. I opened my eyes and looked around. My  
body was mostly buried in the cold snow. There was nothing around for miles  
and miles. The sky was cloudy and somewhat dark, but not yet night.  
  
It began to come back to me. I remembered seeing the Aurora take off from  
London, my precious Rebecca aboard. I remembered seeing Them following. I  
remembered climbing quickly to the top of my tree, and jumping up to grab  
one of the dark airship's dangling mooring ropes. I remembered clinging to  
the ropes for an interminable length of time. I remembered arriving in the  
Arctic. I remembered sneaking aboard the Prometheus, and pretending to be  
one of Them once more. I remembered seeing Count Gregory sending out teams  
of dogsleds after my beloved Rebecca. I remembered seeing Count Gregory  
heading out to find her himself after none of the dogsleds returned. I  
remembered the Count returning. And he had my Rebecca held captive!  
  
I remembered seeing her come aboard the Prometheus under guard. I  
remembered inveigling myself into the group of soldiers and observers  
guarding them. I remembered reaching the lab. I remembered the other  
guards being dismissed, and being ordered to remain with another observer.  
I remembered being ordered to point a gun at my precious Rebecca. I  
remembered crying in my mask as I did so.  
  
I remembered the giant figure getting angry and smashing the Count as the  
other observer prepared to shoot my Rebecca. I remembered firing my pistol  
at him instead of Rebecca. I remembered the other observer being confused  
momentarily as it dropped its gun and bled from its wrist. I remembered  
rushing at the other observer and fighting him. I remembered my precious  
Rebecca escaping from the lab!  
  
I remembered fighting the other observer, and then I remembered the crash  
and the blackness.  
  
Now I was awake again. And alone again.  
  
I had saved Rebecca Fogg's life! My heart leapt with joy as I remembered  
the moment. I had been ordered to kill her, but I refused and did not kill  
her. I smiled as I wept once more.  
  
I began to dig myself out of the cold snow. At least I imagine it was cold.  
That is what snow usually felt like. However, I no longer had the capacity  
to feel cold, or heat. They had taken that from me, They had done that with  
the "adjustments" They had performed upon me and others like me.  
  
I stood up, finally free of the snow. I saw a large imprint of something  
massive in the snow. Perhaps it was the Prometheus that had landed or  
crashed over there. I did not know.  
  
I turned away from the spot, and looked around. Thinking hard within  
myself, and using another "internal adjustment", I sensed where south would  
be. I began walking in that direction.  
  
I began walking back home to my Rebecca...  
  
...THE END...  
  
**********  
  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTES:  
  
Not much to say this time. I would, however, like to extend my heartiest  
thanks and praise to all of the other SAJV writers for their incredibly  
consitently beautiful works. It is your work that keeps inspiring me and  
challenging me to better my own skills. Whether I have or not is debatable,  
but at least I have fun trying. I hope you have at least a bit of fun or  
something like it as you read my attempts.  
  
Special thanks to Lona, Cheri, and Odensdisir, who, in their own way, and  
most likely without knowing it, helped me craft this story into something  
even more twisted-ly devious than it started. :-)  
  
Cheers!  
--Kevin 


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